


when i get chills at night

by pirateygoodness



Series: love myself (no i don't need anybody else) [1]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: F/F, Mutual Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Vibrators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-26
Updated: 2018-09-26
Packaged: 2019-07-17 08:37:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16091990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pirateygoodness/pseuds/pirateygoodness
Summary: It takes a few weeks before Caitlin leaves a note back. She doesn't exactly know what to say. She doesn't know why she wants to say anything at all.(That's not entirely true. But the reasons she has areweirdand she doesn't want to think about them, not with everything that's at stake right now. She can think about all of that later.)It just feels a little one-sided and that's probably a not fair to Killer Frost so she slips a post-it into the pocket of the leather jacket hanging in the back of her closet, one day.Hope you're having a nice day,it begins, because Caitlin couldn't think of anything else to say.I got our jacket dry-cleaned. The blood came out just fine - Caitlin(Or: the weird fic where Caitlin sort of not quite dates Killer Frost that nobody asked for. You're welcome, internet.)





	when i get chills at night

+++

Caitlin likes Killer Frost. 

She wakes up one morning and her body is sore and she remembers changing, remembers some crisis in Central City and Cisco asking her to change and then that weird feeling again. The slipping away that happens when Killer Frost takes over. 

It's not as upsetting as it used to be. The sliding away feels familiar now, less of an ending and more of a - change of state. Water slowly freezing, comfortable in the knowledge that soon it will melt again. As metaphors go its a little on the nose, but then. Nothing about Killer Frost was ever subtle.

She wakes up in her own bed, sore but uninjured with the smell of coffee filling her apartment. 

A fresh outfit - one of Caitlin's, trousers and a floral blouse with a sensible blazer to cover her shoulders - is laid out on the bed on top of her. It's seven in the morning. 

Caitlin slides out of bed, careful not to disturb the clothes, and makes her way to the kitchen. There's a post-it note stuck to the coffee maker: _Don't freak out, Caity. Even I'm capable of figuring out the auto-brew - KF_

There's a little asterisk beside her name. Caitlin stares at it for a full minute before she realizes that it's supposed to be a snowflake. Her alter-ego's equivalent of signing her notes with a heart, maybe. 

It takes her half a cup of coffee to realize that, for the first time, she's thinking of Killer Frost with something other than horror or fear. 

If she's honest with herself she's maybe a little charmed. 

+++

It takes a few weeks before Caitlin leaves a note back. She doesn't exactly know what to say. She doesn't know why she wants to say anything at all. 

(That's not entirely true. But the reasons she has are _weird_ and she doesn't want to think about them, not with everything that's at stake right now. She can think about all of that later.) 

It just feels a little one-sided and that's probably a not fair to Killer Frost so she slips a post-it into the pocket of the leather jacket hanging in the back of her closet, one day. _Hope you're having a nice day,_ it begins, because Caitlin couldn't think of anything else to say. _I got our jacket dry-cleaned. The blood came out just fine - Caitlin_

There's a note on the kitchen counter, the next time she changes. 

_You're adorable. I got more blood on it. XOXO, KF_

+++

Killer Frost calls her Caity. 

That doesn't sound quite right. 

She's stopped thinking of her like that, somewhere along the way. She's not _Killer Frost_ , not to Caitlin. She's _KF_ , and sometimes if Caitlin's feeling particularly affectionate she'll shorten it even further, thinking of her as just a first initial that's drawn out to a name, _Kay._

KF calls her Caity and Caitlin starts signing her post-its that way, _Caity_ with a little heart next to her name instead of a period. 

It's weird, probably. 

It feels like the most natural thing in the world, but it also feels like something she has to keep desperately, intensely secret. 

+++

KF isn't afraid of her sexuality. Caitlin keeps hers behind locked doors, buried deep under the covers. One barely has to skim the Wikipedia page on Freud to draw some conclusions. 

Negotiating consent with someone that hijacks her body on a biweekly basis via post-it-note is, to say the least, unconventional. 

Not that KF would ever - she asks. She asks in a letter, longhand on the little pad that Caitlin uses for grocery lists, in the neat block capitals that are almost exactly like Caitlin's own handwriting. The note begins: _So if I were going to have sex, what would your rules be. A girl's got urges._

There are about three paragraphs after that, specific enough that Caitlin blushes hot and red and nearly chokes on her breakfast. _A girl's got urges_ , the phrase sticks in her mind far better than it should. 

Urges to _what_. 

(Caitlin knows, obviously, in broad strokes. But it's the details that are leaving her distracted and more intrigued than she has any right to be. It's all she can think about for the rest of the day.)

+++

Caitlin thinks about it more than she should. 

It takes her a few days to write a reply, to get past the surprise and vague anxiety over the idea of it and think about the details. She's got to communicate everything clearly and specifically and it's - she knows how to do that. She has a whole mental thesaurus of anatomical terms and sexual health information and detailed descriptions but none of that really accounts for the way that she feels when she thinks about it. 

When she thinks about it and sees a flash of white hair, painted nails and that blue lipstick caught between teeth - not Caitlin's, but _KF's_. She thinks about it, and suddenly all she can picture is a woman sitting astride someone else's hips and rocking back and forth, making these soft little sounds with increasing high-pitched urgency. 

She thinks about it and late at night she lights a few candles and slides in under her covers and runs her fingertips down her belly and then lower.

Caitlin thinks about KF having sex and it gets her wet and she tries not to think about what that means. She just focuses on the fantasy, the sight of KF sitting above her, rocking against her thigh, KF's hands slipping into her panties and touching, touching. 

Caitlin comes and it's with her own hand on her clit but it's the thought of KF's fingers inside her that bring her over the edge, a soft little cry and that name on her lips, _Kay._

She comes down, breathing deep until her orgasm has passed, until the wetness on her thighs and her hand just feels sticky and a little uncomfortable. She gets out of bed, she turns on the shower, and while the water is warming up she writes a note. 

_I'm not sure that I feel comfortable. Give me time to think about it. Love, Caitlin._

+++

She doesn't notice what she's written until three days later. There's a post-it in her jeans pocket: _Love you, too - KF_

+++

Caitlin tries to shrug it off. Makes a joke to herself about taking self-love to the next level and buries those feelings down with all the others, because she's got work to do and the world as she knows it is possibly going to end and she doesn't have time to process her weird quasi-narcissistic quasi-sexual feelings for her sort-of-evil alter-ego. 

She tries to shrug it off but she's sitting in the lab and Cisco is talking about Orphan Black again and she thinks to herself: if she and KF had sex, would it be considered masturbation? 

+++

Three days later there's a box on her kitchen counter. It's black, marked with a logo that Caitlin doesn't recognize and a post-it note that makes Caitlin's heart do a funny little flutter before she even reads it. 

(Premature ventricular beats are perfectly normal, of course. They're a random electrical event that have nothing to do with a person's emotional or psychological state.) 

(She should give herself an EKG, just to be sure.) 

_Happy Wednesday, Caity_ , the note reads. _I thought we could share this, but I wanted you to use it first. Just to make sure you're okay with it. Have fun - KF_ There's a little heart at the end, next to the initials. 

Caitlin opens the box, takes a look inside and shoves the lid back on top reflexively. She's alone in her apartment, but she has to look over her shoulder just to double-check. 

"I'm alone in my apartment. I'm a grown woman. Sexuality is perfectly natural." She says it out loud to herself, which isn't weird at all. It's the normal response to realizing that KF bought her - them - _that._

Probably. It's probably the normal response, if there's even a normal response to have. 

Caitlin feels, just a little bit, like her head is floating away and leaving her body behind. Or maybe she's a tad pre-syncopal, it's difficult to say. She grips the counter decisively, and shakes her head. "You are not going to faint," she tells herself. "It's just a vibrator." 

She hears herself skim over the word, forcing it out like it's medical terminology, like this is a purely academic discussion. Like KF didn't buy her a goddamn vibrator that's sitting in a box on her kitchen counter, nestled in between the coffee maker and the fruit bowl. 

Caitlin doesn't faint. She opens the box again, steeling herself just a little bit as she opens the lid and sets the top of the box on the counter. On second glance, it's not as intimidating as she first thought. For starters, it's not shaped like a penis. That's helpful, and she wonders for a moment how KF _knew_ before she slams a mental door shut on that train of thought. It's - she picks it up - a little bigger than the size of her palm. It feels like it's made of silicone, smooth with a little bit of drag, and the colour is a perfect Killer Frost ice blue. There are three buttons on the bottom, a plus sign and a minus sign and another in between them. 

Caitlin takes a deep breath, and presses. The thing whirs to life, buzzing in her hand and Caitlin can feel herself flush hot as she frantically presses the button to turn it off, already embarrassed. 

She bundles everything back in the box and puts it under her bed. 

She needs some time to process things. 

(Maybe she processes some of those things with her fingertips, rubbing fast against herself as she tries to think about nothing in particular.)

(Maybe Caitlin comes thinking about KF's mouth on her throat and the phantom sensation of that toy held against her clit. Maybe, as she comes, Caitlin almost hears her say it: _come for me, Caity. Please._ ) 

+++

Caitlin doesn't touch the box under her bed for a full week. She doesn't write, either. KF doesn't come out that week - the city is quiet, at least for the moment - and Caitlin's more than a little grateful. 

She doesn't touch the box but she thinks about it almost every night, that thought buzzing at the edge of her consciousness: _what if I tried it tonight?_

Seven nights later, she gives in. 

She sits on the bed, cross-legged. She's naked from the waist down, and the feeling of her sheets against her bare skin is just foreign enough that it's a bit thrilling. The box is open beside her, she's charged the battery and the - _vibrator_ , that's what it's called - is in her hand. 

It's not complicated. She knows it shouldn't be. Apply vibrations to clitoris with desired pressure until desired effect is achieved. Easy. 

But there's a weight to it, a metaphorical one, that Caitlin can't quite seem to shake. KF's note is still there, tucked carefully inside the box, and Caitlin runs her thumb across it. The little heart next to her initials seems so much more significant, now. Caitlin thinks about what KF might say. _A girl's got urges_ , that's what she said before and Caitlin thinks about it now. 

She thinks about KF sitting behind her, one hand over Caitlin's, thumb brushing across her wrist like a promise. _Come on, Caity_ , she'd say. _I want to hear you come, for real this time._

Caitlin's thumb taps the power button. The vibrator surges to life again, buzzing in her hand. It feels weird against her fingers, almost ticklish. She almost laughs, almost turns it off and puts it away again, but something about the way she's fantasizing and the feel of the vibrations sets off - what would KF call them - _urges._ Desire starts to throb between Caitlin's legs. 

She sits there for longer than she probably should, staring at the vibrator in her hand. Worries start to float to the front of her thoughts - what if it's too strong, what if it hurts, what if it doesn't work right - and just as she's about to give in to them, she thinks about KF. 

(KF who's probably sitting behind her, one arm wrapped around Caitlin's waist, easing her down. KF who whispers a question into her ear: _are you wet for this, Caity?_ )

She is, that's the thing. 

Caitlin slides down the bed. She kicks the sheets away, lets herself settle, one knee bent and the other sprawled across the top of the duvet. She touches the vibrator to her vulva and she feels so much that she actually moans, the sound spilling out of her almost beyond her control. She takes it away for a moment, just to breathe. It feels good, but there's so much sensation all at once that it's a little overwhelming. 

She feels torn. 

She's overthinking it. 

She thinks about KF again. KF holding the vibrator against her, whispering: _relax, Caity. You can take it._. KF spreading her open, pressing it right against her clit. KF holding her and kissing her and keeping her safe. 

The sensation against her clit is overwhelming until it's not; her orgasm hits her like a thunderclap. She's not prepared for how hard she'll feel it, how _much_ she'll feel. Everything happens at once and before Caitlin fully realizes what's happening she's spent and dropping the vibrator to the mattress beside her. 

(In her - fantasy, she can call it that - KF is still there, soothing her. KF smoothes her hair back, whispers _Caity, honey_ against her skin and Caitlin hasn't felt this safe or this cared for in years.) 

+++

She leaves the box in her closet, on a shelf next to the leather jacket and the rest of KF's clothes. On top of it, there's a post-it note. 

_KF - hope it's good for you, too. XOXO, Caity_

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Hailee Steinfeld's "I Love Me" because I couldn't not.


End file.
